The Phantoms Companion: Part one
by The Phantoms Companion
Summary: Erik's life started out roughly, yet he was not without support. What if Erik had a life long friend? Perhaps one he failed to mention because she left him in such tragedy? Maybe he erased what she had to say...


((This fanfic is originally from the book Phantom. Since they lacked a place for that... well, it is about the life of Erik after all. Phantom of the Opera will work just fine. The first part about when they are young young will not last long, its just going into understanding the depth of their friendship. If you are a reader of my Bartimaeus trilogy fanfic, please be patient. At the moment I am working on various fanfics, and I have found little time to write. I promise you, I am nearly done .))

It was a cruel wish to begin with. So very cruel. A kiss? Erik wanted a kiss from his mother? He shouldn't have been forced to ask, he should have got it in the first place. Even as his mother screamed after him never to ask for an earthly pleasure such as a mere peck on the cheek that no child should be denied, I felt a cold hand wrapping around my wrist and pulling me after it up the stairs. I made no attempt to resist, leering down at Madeline as I ascended the flight of stairs.

Erik shut his bedroom door behind us as I walked over to the window, which at this time had not been boarded up. I could see Mademoiselle Perrault striding up the cobbled walkway, her flaming red hair pulled into a loose ponytail on the back of her neck. If Erik had not just suffered such a devastating blow, I might have been slightly amused. Auntie Perrault was never one to put any effort into her appearance, not at all like my own mother.

The pounding on the door resonated throughout the house. I hastened to avert my attention to Erik, who was regarding me with what I can only assume was jealousy. "Mama's never kissed me." he mused softly. Even with the mask on, I could sense he was frowning. This did little to ease my six year old mind, which was already mourning for my poor friend.

My only friend.

I had known Erik for but a single year, and already we were as thick as thieves. This was understandable of course, that I should get very attached to my first friend, and a good friend he was! Not at all like all the other children I had been exposed to. They were all so conventional: so very common, from their rational, narrow minded way of thinking to their average lineage, to their very names! Oh how I despised them so, and their abhorrence for me was mutual, for I was anything but common.

I was like Erik.

Auntie Perrault had acquainted us, bless her. She seemed to think that her friends son could use a playmate, carelessly divulging bits and pieces of information. Nothing important of course. Merely that Erik was not permitted to disembark from the house at any circumstances. She had behested me not to query about the mask that adorned the boys face and to remember my well endowed manors. For some outlandish reason unknown to even myself, the mask had not struck me as atypical in any way: indeed, I am prepared to say that I would not have noticed it if my aunt had not pointed it out.

Madeline and been very hostile torwards me upon gaining accession. I hadn't the faintest idea why, for it couldn't be protectiveness. Indeed, she treated him with the same listless contempt the towns children seemed to be appetent for treating me with. I could not see why, for once conversing with young Erik I had discovered that he, like me, was an intellectual, doomed to suffer through the world with the knowledge of one hundred fully educated men. At the time I did not realize the extend of what his knowledge would one day be.

Both Erik and I had both seemed very unclear as to how to act. At first, we both remained dignified, never straying from our appointed guardian's side. Soon we bored of hearing them speak of that mass ten years ago when Father what's-his-face had fallen over while trying to speak, managing to knock over a very appalled woman who promptly began hitting him over the head with a hymn book. We sat down on the floor nearby and began to commune merrily, and before long we were laughing and discussing issues that most four and five year olds would not be able to comprehend even with the assistance of an adult. When the day was over, I recall entreating Aunt Perrault to bring me back the next day. She gladly acquiesced to my frantic request. Not only did she bring me back the next day, but the day after that... In fact, she allowed me to visit Erik every day that was possible: every day, save for mass and when she was to ill to do so.

And so our friendship continued to grow and flourish, as well as our trust in each other. There was only one time when I had threatened to betray that trust which had so meticulously been built up, for cruel nature had taught us to be anything but opening.

Poor Erik hadn't known what was behind the mask.

And so the mask had began to get to small for him. He often complained that it was irritable and hot. At the time I suggested he remove it, I had been meddling. I wished to know the face of my playmate. The thought would not have even crossed my mind if Erik had not brought it up. When he expeditiously purged his face of the mask, I can clearly recollect glomming at him for only a terse moment before averting my gaze and imediantly dismissed the matter. It was at that moment that I knew why the only mirror in the house was locked safely out of harms way in Madeline's room.

I was abruptly snapped from my dream as Erik's soft voice broke my chain of thought, once more forcing me into this cruel thing called reality. Reality, which had been un-capitulating to both of our poor, god forsaken souls. "Has your mother ever kissed you?"

A cold chill had set in the room. I liked to think that it was a draft, but I could not deceive myself. It was the harsh truth that made me cringe under the boys sad gaze. I knew that I could never lie to someone who's eyes were such a vibrant, unearthly blue that they reflected his apparent innocense. I knew of course that all the little disasters that occurred around the house were almost always to blame on him, but at the same time he knew little of the cruelty of the world, therefor he was innocent in my minds eye.

"Yes." I admitted, eyes downcast. "You must not take it into account. No, I think it best you erase the memory of inquiring for a kiss from your mind. It is you're birthday after all. A time for celebration!" No matter how amicable I might have sounded, I knew that my eyes betrayed me as I regarded my friend with great pity.

Erik studied me for a moment before nodding decisively and spreading his fingers as if to dismiss the matter. "I don't care. I just can't figure out why mama does."

And so started my great mourning for my friend. I knew by this point that without myself by his side, Erik would have no one, not that I could exactly comprehend how anyone would ever dare let such a charming person spend their life in solitude.

Erik had been unconscious at the time. Unfortunately, he had not heard the last part of his mothers conversation with whom I could only assume to be her lover. _She really did love Erik!_ Oh, sweet revelation! Finally, he would get the affection that he deserved! He could have a more normal childhood, perhaps he might even get that kiss that he had been denied four years ago.

But alas, merciless fate thought otherwise.

When Erik suggested we decamp, I could do nothing but agree. I had been in a sort of terrified awe at the thought. I was unable to do anything but pack away several treasured possessions and set off.

I remember that night very well. Erik had asked me to withdraw my presence from the room as he attempted to rid himself of the painful memories that would forever haunt him if he were to let them go unskathed .I did comply, but I could not help feeling curious. As I locked myself away in the parlor, I recall in the most vibrant detail peeking out through the key hole as Erik reentered the lounge, carrying with him the mirrors his mother had provided him. (I still did not see the purpose of the mirrors. All I knew is that he had used them for some experiment.) He also had in his arms a stack of papers. I recognized one as music that he had composed. The other was architectural sketching and notes that he had taken over the past several years.

I was quiet content, standing there and peering out at my friend. Even as he broke the glass, scattering it about the floor and allowing his compositions and works to drop to the ground without so much as a backward glance, I convulsed almost imperceptibly. I knew this would not erase the memories of his tormented childhood, nor would it clear his conscious, but this argument would not hold up against Erik.

And so when it was done we quickly absconded into the night, my traveling cape flowing out behind me as we hastened off and were lost in the perpetual gloom of the forest on the border of town. Adrenaline pumped throughout my veins as the cold wind whipped my hair out about my head, and goosebumps began to puncture my skin. The legs of my companion were longer than mine, despite the age difference. At times I found it difficult to keep up with the litheful nine year old, but at such times I could tell that he would lessen his gait to match my own. And so we continued onwards, side by side.

After what seemed like an eternity, our running gradually subsided into more like a rapid stumbling. I cursed Madeline under my breath every time my cloak would snag on a branch, or I would tumble over a root, composing myself at the last moment. She was to blame. It was because of her I was forsaking my comfortable life in order to accompany my friend. The last time I could remember being quiet so mad was when little William Hendricks shoved me into the ground when I was eight. All the towns children scoffed at me for being friends with 'the monster'. I did not hesitate in showing William that I was not one to be pushed around. I am still unable to say truthfully weather or not he was able to make his way home after I had finished with him, or if he merely cowered on the ground where I had left him and cinched his bleeding nose between his hands.

"A gypsy fair." Erik observed in wide-eyed bewilderment as I halted abruptly at his side in order to respite.

This was no good.

I knew, from what my mother had told me that Gypsies were mongrols and thieves. Their treachery was known far and wide. They were never to be trusted, never to be approached. Of course, I was sure that my friend had to know that to, but then again, if he did what possessed him to advancing forth torwards their horses?

"Erik, no!" I whispered frantically. "Come away, come away at once! We can not- oh, for pities sake!" I knew at once there was no use changing his mind. Without another word, I quickly trotted over to him. Perhaps he just wanted to see the horses and we would be on our way...

Suddenly, a figure lurched out of the gloom and I felt an arm close in around my kneck. There was a moment of silence. I was vaguely aware that Erik had averted his attention from the animals to me, and he let out of catacall of acrimony and rage. Before his fists could contact my capturer, he was caught around the waist, and then we were surrounded.

The next thing I knew was darkness.


End file.
